Tu Me Manques
by fiftyshadesofdevingray
Summary: What would you do to be with the one you love? Season 1/Season 3 crossover


**To Melanie, you helped me with this one. To our baby and the memories violetsmurderhouse and lingeringlangdon brought us. You will always be the Violet to my Tate.**

**A/N: I wanted to write, the new promo inspired me.**

** "Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey." –Lord Byron**

**I**

It's Halloween again.

Tate hugs his thread bare sweater to his body as he travels down the street; night time has yet to fall upon the city of Angels. When the sun sets trick or treaters will run past him dressed as witches, zombies, and vampires. Little do they know that there is actually a monster amongst them?

He trails behind the remnants of a family still trying to put themselves back together. Ben walks dressed as a vampire for the third year in a row with his hand on Vivien's lower back as she carries Jeffrey in his pumpkin costume. Violet walks next to them contrasting her mother's witch costume with her normal clothes; leggings and a purple tunic but he thinks she would look better in one of his sweater. Occasionally she looks over her shoulder and he wonders if she can see him, more like hopes. He isn't sure what is worse, her not recognizing him or her ignoring him.

Tate is taking a risk being out here, he is a wanted man to many; mostly angry spirits. But he did that to himself, he is learning to take responsibility for his actions. The chance to see her happy with her family is worth the risk of being drowned in the Pacific.

The Harmons make a turn towards the park where Tate had met Ben for coffee many years ago, there is a Halloween festival going on; bobbing for apples, cider doughnuts, and day time trick or treating for the children too young to be out that night. The usual Halloween shit, even better, more places for him to hide among the crowds.

Vivien passes Jeffrey over to Violet, who cradles her baby brother close to her chest and kisses his cheek. She looks up at her parents, smiling radiantly and he would do anything to be on the other end of that smile, to be a part of her again.

**II**

"What are you doing here, Tate?"

Tate steps out from his place by a nearby tree, just across the path from Violet. He skulks towards her without a word in his usual fashion, like a puppy who has been beaten one too many times.

Violet is sitting on a park bench just before dusk; her family has left her some time to herself. They know her well enough now to know she needs designated time to herself every now and then. An unlit cigarette rests between her lips and silence surrounds them.

"I don't know, nothing better to do," he replies, with a shrug. He stands in front of her his hands shoved in pockets, thumbing the metal zippo. "Need a light?" Tate asks, quietly.

Violet looks at him, her hazel eyes seem to be penetrating his soul but what they are saying is undetectable. "I quit," she says, simply. "It's bad for the baby."

Tate doesn't bother to say it, her brother is dead, but that would only lead to an argument or even worse his banishment. He pulls the cigarette out of her mouth and places the Marlboro into his own. It's the closest he will ever get to have her lips against his.

He lights cigarette, inhaling deeply. "It's not like it will kill me." Tate chuckles, dryly.

Violet shivers and Tate isn't quite sure if she is cold or her body is rejecting his joke. She stands up her eyes still not leaving his, without a word he removes his sweater and drapes the cloth over her shoulders. He waits for her to throw off the cardigan but she doesn't.

"Thanks," Violet finally responds.

She takes the cigarette from his mouth, putting the cancer stick to her lips she takes a drag; tilting her head back to blow smoke rings to the sky. Tate watches, mesmerized by her beauty; he wants so badly to reach over and stroke her cheek, kiss her lips, press his body to hers.

"I thought you quit," he points out.

Violet shrugs. "Like you said, it's not going to kill me," she counters, dropping the cigarette and stomping it out. "

"0h," he notes, swallowing harshly.

"I have to go, Mom and Dad need me to watch Jeffrey so they can go to dinner." she says, biting her lip.

Tate looks down, he can see the top of her striped sock from the top of her boot; she always has such goofy socks on.

"Can I walk you home, it's getting kind of dark?" he requests, eagerly.

Violet shakes her head, turning to walk away. "Like you said, it's not like anything is going to kill me."

There is no anger in her voice just indifference.

**III**

Tate walks her home anyway, in his own way, in the shadows like he has been doing all day. They are on an empty street one over from Murder house, when Violet hugs his sweater tighter around her. She never gave it back and he can't help but smirk.

Violet stops suddenly but doesn't turn. "What are you doing, Tate?" she calls out.

Tate walks closer to her, placing his hands on her shoulders; breathing against the back of her neck making her shudder. She hasn't reacted to him like that in a while, and it's satisfying.

"I am walking you home," he explains, moving his lips closer to her ear.

Violet turns to him, their faces are inches apart, there is no anger resonating on her face. He can't read it, and that's a first. "Why?" she breathes.

Tate rubs her shoulders, surprised when she still doesn't pull away. "I have a lot of enemies," he whispers. "They want to hurt me.

Violet rolls her eyes. "What does that have to do with me?" she sighs.

Tate rests his forehead against hers. "You're a part of me," he declares.

It was true, she wasn't in his life and it was like he had lost an organ, or a limb. He felt empty without her, the feeling becoming more overwhelming by the day. Being so close to her right now felt so right.

Violet shrugs her hands off his shoulders , finally. "Tate, no, I-I can't," she pulls away. "You have to move on, I know I have."

Before he knows it she is gone and he is standing on the empty street under the headlights. It feels like three years ago and soon the snot and tears are dripping down his face. Footsteps fill the silence, he braces himself, probably the dead breakfast club. A hand touches his shoulder and he tenses up.

"I think I can help you."

**A/N: Just the first chapter. Reviews are appreciated.**


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